360
by xXsomeoneelseXx
Summary: They've fought the good fight, finished the race, and departed. And now, they're coming back.
1. Chapter 1

Hi peeps, this started out as a plot bunny that just wouldn't let go. But as I wrote it down, the idea grew somewhat, though not enough to let me finish it yet. But, the idea is too good to pass up. So, I'm going out of my comfort zone to bring you this. This is kind of a challenge for me, to see if I can post something that's not done yet and then be able to update it with some semblance of regularity. I hope I'm up to it. If not... sorry. .;

Okay, enough babbling from me already... enjoy!

_**--**_

**_..._**

_**No.**_

_Huh?_

_**You are to go back.**_

_Wait, what? Back where?_

_**Go **_**back.**

He felt himself viciously thrust- almost thrown- from the presence that had surrounded him. He had barely gotten here; why was he forced to leave now? The warmth that had engulfed him upon arriving had been the greatest thing he had ever felt.

_What?! Waiiiiit!_

The presence receded rapidly, and he felt himself being pulled in a different direction- downwards, toward what, he didn't know. Whatever it was, it was somewhere he didn't want to be. Surely anywhere else other than here would be awful—nothing could replace the peace that had lovingly surrounded him for such a short time. He tried to move away, but the struggle was futile. He screamed silently as the sensation of being trapped overwhelmed him. True panic finally set in, and he lashed out blindly.

.o.

Bobby practically skipped out of the Game Stop triumphantly. Finally, after months of mowing the grass, scrimping and saving and going without, sweet victory was his! A brand-new Xbox 360 of his very own. He could hardly believe it, after all the torture he had had to endure for this moment of bliss.

So lost was he in his visions of Halo 3 that he didn't even notice the weird kid who ran by on the sidewalk, nor the silver package in his hands as he smacked directly into the front of an on-coming car. Being who Bobby was, he was about to ask if he was okay when the teenager was back on his feet and, snatching the cube-thing, tore like hell down the road once again. Weird, he had thought when he had seen the box-thing hit the ground—

Bobby frowned as the precious box he was carrying began to vibrate. It was as though the machine inside had just turned on. But that was impossible, of course; it would have to be plugged in, right…? Bobby stared at the box as the vibrations increased.

Then two miniature arms broke through the sides of the cardboard box and began flailing around.

Bobby dropped the box and ran away, screaming.

He _knew_ he should've gotten a Wii.

.o.

He lashed out in fear, uncaring of his surroundings. He simply wanted to get out of this prison— and, to his surprise, actually broke through something. Light flooded in, making him cringe and writhe; it was way too bright.

Suddenly there was a jolt, and his prison broke open. Now the light was truly painful as it assaulted his optics. He squealed and thrashed on the ground, shielding his fresh-born visual sensors. He was dimly aware of loud noises around him: heavy thuds that shook the ground, screams, and, in the distance, explosions. Sensory overload from all the sudden input was almost painful, too much for his processor to grasp.

After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, his optics adjusted so that the light level was bearable, and his small body stilled. He sat up, albeit a bit slowly, and looked around with wonder.

He was sitting on a smooth, white, and very hard surface with grooves in it. In front of him, the pasty ivory surface dropped off slightly into a rougher black surface, on which rested several large machines. Creatures he had never seen before—but which looked oddly familiar—with two legs were screaming and running around chaotically, apparently fleeing the distant explosions.

He couldn't figure out why they were running away—explosions were fun to watch. The mushroom flame, the beautiful billows of thick smoke, the initial detonation itself; who _didn't_ like them?

A nearby sound caught his attention. It wasn't an explosion, but resembled it enough to be interesting. Bright, sky-blue optics searched for the source.

A flourish of emerald, arms, legs. Wait a second—it was a mech! A tall green mech, who was blindly shooting cylindrical objects at the passing two-legged creatures, who screamed more when they saw the ten-foot robot. The smaller one didn't understand this—the mech was using compressed air, which was hardly an explosion and didn't propel the cylinders very far. They all missed, anyway—the green mech wasn't really aiming or anything. The green mech was probably just scared, like him.

Well, no matter. It was a fun talent, even if it wasn't really accomplishing anything. He, decided to make friends with this green mech. They were kindred spirits, after all, and friends were always good to have. He got to his feet unsteadily and tottered over to the towering acquaintance, chattering electronically. The emerald mech stopped short, silencing his shooting, before turning to face the little one and leaning down to regard him. They stared at each other for a few seconds, then grinned (or at least something akin to it) at each other in a wordless understanding, friends. Work together. Protect each other.

A strange noise behind him made him whirl about, and his partner followed suit, glancing up. Two more of the strange creatures had just bolted out of a black machine and fled, screaming. The ebony machine began to split apart and change, growing, silver chrome mixing beautifully with the gleaming black paint. Arms and legs replaced fenders and wheels, and when all was done, a third robot was standing there.

This one dwarfed both him and the green mech. For a long moment, they all stood frozen, staring at each other in something akin to awe.

Then there was another explosion, far closer than any of the others, and suddenly, he didn't think the explosions would be so pretty to look at anymore. Especially not as near as that one was.

By unspoken agreement, the three of them turned and sprinted, the green mech scooping him up along the way. They were a team, a unit, and they knew instinctively they had to stay together to ensure that their short time spent on this curious place wouldn't stay short. They ran for their newly-begun lives as explosions and pandemonium chased them down the street.

After a few minutes of running throughout the maze of massive structures that extended further than they could see, they wound up in a small area where much of the surrounding chaos was blocked off. It was dark and abandoned—a perfect spot to hide and rest for a bit. The intense fighting seemed to have gone in a different direction, much to their appeasement. The black robot flopped down against a crumbling brick wall, and the green mech followed suit, still holding him.

The respite gave their processors time to catch up with what was going on. Since he didn't know what the purpose of the fighting and explosions was, it was best to avoid them. He could worry about that later. For now, he was more interested in…himself.

He stared at his small hands. They were completely new to him, and yet…it seemed almost natural to have clawed, four-fingered hands. Flexing them experimentally, he noted the feel of tiny servos working in harmony. He glanced down at his chassis, with the accompanying Xbox logo on it, his white, gleaming arms and legs and even his sharp toes, perfect for climbing and moving quickly.

Yet there was nothing he could explain about the sensations he was having—most of all the strange impression that he was... _different_ somehow. Different from the way he used to be. But that was an odd thought. He had no memories from whatever this "used to be" time would have been—as far as he knew, he had always been like this.

The mini-bot looked over at his companions, who seemed to be experiencing similar epiphanies. They, like his own body, were utterly unknown to him, and yet he felt he knew them from somewhere. Like he should know where they had come from, what they were to him, even simply their names.

And shouldn't he know his own?

That processor-jarring thought made him squeak out loud. His name! What was it? Surely he had to have one, didn't he? It was _there_, he knew it, somewhere just out of his reach…

"Are you all right?" the large ebony bot said, and he realized it had a feminine aspect. Glancing up into her larger, emerald optics he nodded, replying in the same electronic chatter she had used.

"Yes, I am functional. …Do you know my name?"

"Name?" The black femme seemed confused, obviously not having thought of it before. "No… I don't know my own."

"But we do have names, don't we?" the green mech said, his tone worried. "I know I have a name!"

"We have to have names," he agreed. "We just don't remember them, that's all."

"Yes, but I want to remember mine, now!" the femme said, almost angrily. "I want to know who I am."

"But how?" the green mech said. "What do we do?"

That silenced them all for a while. None of them could figure out a way to find their names.

Deciding his name would probably elude him despite his best efforts, he went back to exploring his body. He was delighted to discover that he had a connection to computers all over the world, something called the Internet. Maybe it would help him. And if not, there seemed to be more fun things floating around in it than he could look at in a lifetime. It was a vast repository of information, linking together millions, possibly even billions, of different computers. The sheer scale of it was staggering—and tempting. Who knew how much fun he could have exploring it?

"Hey! Look at this!" he said to his companions. Within seconds the three of them had logged on and were exploring the Internet with glee, downloading information at speeds that would have made Bill Gates jealous.

He soared through with awe, looking at different videos. Every conceivable type of entertainment was here, from people doing stupid things to informative videos to silliness to music.

Music… he searched through the Internet for more of it. It was amazing, this type of sound that humans enjoyed listening to. It was like a different type of communication or stimulus, one that needed no words. And there were so many kinds, too! Rock and pop and classical and—

He leaped up with a cry of triumph. His companions twitched and glanced at him, startled at his sudden outburst. He chattered excitedly for a few seconds before becoming intelligible again.

"My name! My name! I know my name!" He punched the air in a gesture of victory. "I know what it is!"

"What's your name, then?" the femme asked.

He squared his shoulders proudly. "My name is Jazz."

--

See why this is such an amazing plot bunny?? .:pets plot bunny:. Don't worry, you'll find out who the other two are soon!

Please review if you liked it... hell, review if you didn't like it. I can always use constructive criticism, don't be afraid of hurting my feelings. Flames will be fed to my mutant killer plot bunnies. 3


	2. Why Hello There

Wow, I finally updated! .:bricked by angry subscribers:. Sorry it took me soooo fricken' long to post this, hopefully updates will take less than three weeks in the future. My beta has been really busy so we finally decided to post this chapter as is. I hope you enjoy it anyway... ah well, enough of my blabbering.

Disclaimer: It's fanon, not canon. More's the pity. I own nothing but my mutant killer plot bunnies. .:huggles mutant killer plot bunnies possessively:.

--

'_Jazz! Get your head down!_'

Jazz ducked, just in time, as a human male walked by, peering into the window. All the human saw was an Xbox sitting on the floor of a Cadillac Escalade.

'_That was _way_ too close_,' she hissed over their internal comm.

'_Sorry, I didn't see him!_' Jazz said.

'_Then you should pay more attention,_' Chromia snapped, resisting the urge to shift nervously on her tires. That human was just a little too interested in Jazz for her tastes. She checked once more that her doors were locked. The human turned away, and she relaxed slightly.

And then she tensed back up again as he looked with careful ease up and down the deserted street. There was nobody else around for several hundred feet, Chromia knew; she had scanned the area herself and parked here for that very reason. They were in a run-down part of the city where few people came, meaning she could let Jazz and Wheeljack out to collect some solar energy without scaring humans. It wouldn't do to be discovered.

She didn't know why this was so, but they all knew instinctively: it was imperative that nobody discover that they were anything other than simple machines.

Unfortunately, the nature of the places they frequented meant that whatever humans _did_ show up tended to be of the felonious type. And Chromia, being a brand-new Cadillac, was a prime target for car thieves. In the last two weeks, she had been the victim of no less than six attempted grand theft autos. All of them had been unsuccessful, of course, but they left her door panels smarting. It was almost enough to make her open her door and tell Jazz to scare this stupid human off.

Thankfully, it turned out to be unnecessary, as a truck turned onto their street at that moment. The would-be car thief noticed it, and decided to continue on his way. Chromia silently wished him an unsafe journey.

Still feeling a bit paranoid, Chromia scanned the truck. Massive, black, diesel-powered—no driver. Her spark skipped a beat. It had an energy signature like that of no other car that she had come across in her short life--one like her own. Quickly, she activated a cloaking field, shielding her energy signature from any prying optics.

Maybe she hadn't been fast enough, though. Her spark skipped another beat as the black truck halted suddenly.

'_Time to go,_' she warned her precious cargo. Jazz transformed and braced himself. Wheeljack, in the back seat, did the same as Chromia's engine turned over.

--

Ironhide paused. That was odd; for a second he felt like he'd been scanned. He slammed on the brakes, letting his own scanners wash over his surroundings. There was nothing out of the ordinary here…

…except for that Escalade. What was such an expensive car doing here, in such a bad part of the city?

The answer, apparently, was "running away." The Escalade suddenly started its engine of its own accord and peeled out of its parking spot, tires squealing. Ironhide gave chase, directing a pointed scan at the luxury vehicle.

Nothing. It was like he was looking at a blank spot on his scanners. Now Ironhide was _really_ suspicious. It had to be a Cybertronian, there was no doubt about it. And he was going to find out who it was and what he was doing.

--

Chromia growled as she whipped around the corner, turning onto a different street. That big black truck had scanned her and was chasing her. Unladen, she probably could have outrun the thing, but with Wheeljack's rather hefty weight in the backseat, she was at a disadvantage.

_At least I'm not a Prius_, she thought, looking for a place to hide.

--

"Come back here!" Ironhide actually shouted aloud in frustration as he nearly spun out going around the corner. Thank Primus there were no humans around to get hurt; his driving was definitely illegal by human standards.

The faux Escalade was also not around. Ironhide rumbled angrily and transformed. His cannons hummed eagerly as he stepped forward. The mystery mech couldn't have gone far; his engine would have given him away if he were still running. Ironhide would just have to search him out.

He cleared the first two alleyways on the street with ease. Completely empty. There was only one other alley on this street; that had to be where the mech was hiding. He approached slowly, keeping close to the building and letting his cannons buzz loudly. Whoever this mech was better know what he was up against. He paused, preparing to strike, then leaped around the corner of the building—

--and nearly had a spark attack as he came up close and personal with a pair of cannons that were as big as his own.

Slag. Ohhhhh, slag…

For a few long seconds, the two of them just stood there, staring each other down. Then the other spoke.

"What do you want?"

Ironhide stared in shock. It was a… femme? A real, live femme?

Slowly, he lowered his canons. He wouldn't shoot a femme, no matter what side she was on. The femme relaxed infinitesimally, but didn't lower her cannons.

"What do you _want_?" she said again.

Ironhide's processor was still trying to accept that an actual femme- a FEMME!- was standing right there in front of him. It was amazingly wonderful, despite the fact that she appeared ready and willing to kill him. He blurted out the only thing he could think of.

--

"I was looking for you," he said.

"I can see that," Chromia snapped. Whoever this mech was, he seemed a little short on processor space. At least he wasn't pointing his cannons at her anymore- but that didn't mean that she was going to let her guard down. "Why were you looking for me?"

The black mech was still staring at her as though she were some sort of mythical creature. (Which, unbeknownst to her, she pretty much was.)

"I didn't think there was anyone," he said dazedly.

"Answer the question!" Chromia growled, whirling her cannons threateningly.

"_Boy, he's dumb!_" Jazz giggled, peeking out from behind her leg. The black mech stared at him, looking even more astonished.

Then his optics shut off and he collapsed.

"_Oh no, I killed him!_" Jazz squeaked. He hadn't been expecting such a large mech to simply keel over and die from looking at him. That was a little frightening to think about.

Chromia knelt over the mech and examined him. "_You didn't kill him,_" she said. "_He's offline. You must have really startled him._" She whuffed air from her vents, approximating a sigh, and looked up and down the street. "_Now what do we do with him? We can't just leave him here to be discovered._"

"_True,_" Wheeljack agreed. He scampered out from the shelter of Chromia's legs to look at the large mech. Even offline, he looked fierce, obviously built to fight. "_We should at least pull him into the alley so stray humans don't see him._"

"_Is he hostile?_" Jazz wondered, hopping onto a Dumpster to avoid Chromia's feet as she took the huge mech by the shoulders and dragged him into the alley. He wondered fleetingly why the mech looked so familiar.

"_I bet he isn't,_" Wheeljack said. "_If he were, he would have shot Chromia for sure. Just look at those cannons!_"

Chromia harrumphed, setting the mech down a bit roughly. "_Just in case, hack into his communications center, Jazz. Let's find out who he calls when he wakes up._" She walked over into the street and transformed into her alt mode, letting her scanners extend to their full range, watching for any more energy signatures. She was not going to be caught off guard a second time.

--

On the other side of Mission City, Sam was bored. Really, really bored. Sure, he liked spending time with Bumblebee, but just driving around in an apparently aimless pattern for hours was getting them nothing on the scanners and him carsick.

Maybe he'd been wrong about when he'd dropped the Allspark. It was probably just a stupid hunch anyway. He was beginning to feel guilty about wasting the Autobots' time. He was really starting to get sick of all of them checking in and reporting absolutely nothing every ten minutes for the last three hours. That was eighteen times that they had found nothing.

A small beep signaled the start of another ten-minute interval, and Bumblebee switched on his comm to announce nothing for the nineteenth time.

"This is Bumblebee," he said. "Still-" Sam flinched slightly- "nothing."

Sam let out a small sigh and pressed his cheek against the window as Optimus and Ratchet reported the same. Then there was a small pause.

"Ironhide?" Optimus said. "Ironhide, report."

…nothing…

--

Hooray for cliffies! XD .:bricked:.

How Wheeljack and Chromia came to know their names will be revealed later, never fear! X) Oh, and also, Chromia and Ironhide are bonded in this fic. How they are bonded yet do not recognize each other will also be explained later. ;)

Also, if you think Wheeljack and Chromia are OOC, please let me know. I haven't had the chance to watch a lot of G1 and see what they are like in canon, though I've read plenty of fanfics about them. I know Wheeljack's a nice guy who invents things that tend to go awry, and Chromia's a badass. If you think I need serious help getting them right, I would appreciate a heads-up. :)


End file.
